


In a perfect world

by Tori_Aoshiro



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, F/M, M/M, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Polyamorous Alexander Hamilton, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26681572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tori_Aoshiro/pseuds/Tori_Aoshiro
Summary: What if Hamilton had opened his gobtalker for something other than being a smug little shit? What if morals had been a bit more free at the time? What if Eliza had accepted to share?
Relationships: Aaron Burr/Alexander Hamilton, Aaron Burr/John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton/Angelica Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/Angelica Schuyler/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Hercules Mulligan, Angelica Schuyler & Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Hercules Mulligan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	1. Helpless

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Dans un monde parfait](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26256169) by [Tori_Aoshiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tori_Aoshiro/pseuds/Tori_Aoshiro). 



She was lying in bed, in a nightgown and loose hair, her milky skin set aflame by the candlelight in which she read, again and again, the pages and pages and pages of letters Alexander had sent her. Her large black eyes struggled in the night to satisfy her whim, her thumbs tenderly caressing the sides of the paper, carefully avoiding the ink, by fear that in spite of all logic it might vanish at her fingers' touch. Sometimes, as if sleep was winning over her, her head would fall forward, her heavy eyelids closing, and her lips would accidentally graze the words of love.

"It's late, go to bed," Angelica would then scold gently. She was sitting at the foot of the bed, her head resting against the mattress, a book she wasn't reading anymore held in her hands. Her long curly hair tickled her sister's calves as she gazed at her face.

Eliza's face was like the first notes of a first dance. Her smile was huge, her cheeks had to stretch to make enough room for it. Her teeth sometimes took hold of her bottom lip and her chest was shaken with quiet giggles. Angelica lived for this barely-contained joy, and even if she would have loved to also squirm in glee, reading those letters, she would be happy with this place, at the foot of the bed.

"It's late," she repeated however, rubbing her eyes.

Peggy, the youngest, had already gone to bed a long while ago. But Eliza refused to let go of the young revolutionist's kind words. "I need to reply to him."

"Tomorrow."

"No, I always write better when I just read from him."

"You will read them again tomorrow morning anyway!" the eldest groaned. "You will look like hell if you don't sleep enough."

Eliza wasn't listening. She laid on her back and started formulating her response out loud. "My dear Alexander, I'm reading your letters nightly, and now my life is better with every letter that you write me!"

"That's not what I would say," Angelica mocked. "Men are scared of women who seem too interested, believe me, I've seen it."

Eliza spared her an annoyed glanced, then went back to her imaginary writing. "I'm laughing at my sister 'cause she wants to form a harem!"

"Hey! I'm just saying, if you really loved me, you would share him!"

The sisters looked at each other and laughed. Angelica expected Eliza to continue, but she didn't add anything. She started putting the letters away in her nightstand drawer, carefully, after folding them and putting them in order.

"You know, if you really want to, I wouldn't mind," she said hesitantly, her eyes down on her hands as she worked, like it was a mundane thing to say.

Angelica frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He's like you."

"Intelligent? I'd like to see that." Of course, she was kidding. Alexander Hamilton, at twenty three, already had the reputation of a real genius. Eliza laughed. Her eyes met Angelica's again, and she melted. Those big black eyes cried trust and kindness.

"Reluctant to monogamy," she breathed.

Angelica tensed. "Yes, I know."

"So…"

"But you're not."

"I…" Eliza hesitated, visibly searching for words. "I don't know."

Angelica didn't want to wonder why they were talking about it. Eliza was in love with Alexander, and he loved her back, there was nothing more to say. The rest was between him and her.

"I know he's the one," Eliza murmured. "I know he's mine. And I know I cannot expect from him to change. But you know, if he really does love me, I don't really mind."

"Well, then everything's fine."

"No, it's not!" the younger sister protested, and for a moment, Angelica was stunned. "It's not fine, because I can see the face you make when I receive a letter from him. And because he told me."

"What did he tell you?" And this time, Angelica was menacing.

Of course, that only made the younger sister laugh. "Don't go killing him yet. He told me you had spoken a lot, at the Winter's Ball. And he thought you were charming, and brilliant, and that you had so much in common you might as well be long lost twins."

Angelica just nodded, blushing slightly at the indirect compliments. It was true, she and Alexander were in agreement on almost everything. He was charming, of a rare intelligence that rivaled hers. Slightly arrogant, like any young revolutionist. An open, free and proud sexuality. Candid and clever like little people are. He wanted to practice law and politics. Yes, they had talked a lot that night, before Eliza came to her, completely and helplessly charmed by this beautiful young man. And Angelica, just like her, could feel her heart race when she thought of him.

"And he said that, if I allowed it, he would like to be with you as well."

Angelica looked at her sister without a word, almost hoping she would end the discussion, out of jealousy, embarrassment, something familiar and simple she could concede to. But Eliza was good and generous and stubborn as a mule.

"And I think you would like to be with him."

"No."

"Don't lie!" Eliza laughed.

"I'm not lying," Angelica retorted bitterly. "I cannot be with him, I cannot be with anyone. I would like to, but I can't. I have to handle the family's heritage, marry someone rich and powerful who'll keep me high on the social ladder, because I'm the oldest and the wittiest, and the gossip in New York City is insidious. And Alexander is penniless."

"That doesn't mean you want him any less," Eliza objected gently.

"And then what? You know how good families' men are," Angelica grumbled. "If they hear wind of it, if they know I'm like him, I'll pass for a slut, and no family will want to be associated to our name."

"And what does it matter? It isn't like you to worry about something like that!" Eliza protested a little more vividly. "You are the strongest, most intelligent and determined lady on the continent. If you want a marriage of interest, any gentleman would kick himself for not having you! And if they don't, they're just a bunch of lemmings, you would send them away anyway. What are you really afraid of?"

Angelica twisted her fingers and sighed so loud the walls shook. Since when was Eliza this observant? "I'm afraid of hurting you by letting myself love him."

"You would never hurt me," Eliza assured. She took her sister's hands and pulled her up to her level, on the bed. "You want to leave him for me because you want me to be happy, but I cannot be happy if you are not. Think of yourself a little, Angelica!"

Eliza held her close, clumsily. Angelica felt the tears rise and did her best to swallow them back down. "You would really share your husband?"

"You know he's dating three men, right?"

"Yes, but with another woman?"

"With my sister I love more than anything in the world. Yes," Eliza decided.

A tear escaped Angelica's vigilance. She held her sister a little closer, unable to sort through the emotions stirring up inside her. "Thank you," she whispered.

Eliza stayed quiet. Her embrace was almost suffocating, then she let go with a big smile and let herself fall back down with dreamy eyes.

"My dear Alexander," she said again, giggling, "my sister seems ready to accept your feelings and I urge you to show her a little bit of affection, before she changes her mind and decides to discourage you from any affair with one of her violent speeches."

"Go to bed, Eliza!"


	2. Farmer Refuted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For context, this is happening before the first chapter, but you'll probably notice.

"HE'S OUR A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R, WE ARE MEANT TO BE…" It was something between a war chant and some unsynchronized cry from the back of a bar, but everyone cheered for the three young men carrying the fourth one on their shoulders as he laugh, through the door and to their usual table. A fifth man, much calmer and clearly embarrassed, was following them and glancing around, looking like the guy who secretly wants to go home quietly.

They kept singing as they sat Alexander down a little roughly on his chair and only stopped when it was time to order. Burr remained with his head in his hands, elbows on the table, already exhausted by the others' antics. "Go easy on the alcohol, remember tomorrow…"

"Boo, spoilsport!" Lafayette shouted, stomping his foot under the table.

"Loosen up a little, Burr," Hercules complained.

"We don't do this every day!" John added.

"You don't? You come to this bar so often there must be the prints of your butts engraved into the chairs!"

The four other burst out laughing, muttering : "True, true…"

"Yes, but it's not every day that our Alexander destroys a royalist, in full daylight!" John exclaimed. And upon those words, he caught said man by the collar and pressed a loud kiss – as the southern do – right on the corner of the lips. Alexander laughed and kissed him back, aiming a little better.

"That poor Seabury didn't see it coming! To be fair, it must be the first time someone talks back at him, he was completely lost!" he cackled.

"He looked so happy to see you so attentive. His face when you opened your mouth was the most hilarious thing ever!"

Burr rolled his eyes desperately. "And what did it do for you, to contradict him like that?"

"You can't understand," Lafayette said, and Hercules elbowed him to remind him to be good. Even if he didn't like him, Burr was part of their squad, now, since his friendship was important to Alexander.

"The pleasure of winning the argument and convincing everyone in his stead," Alexander easily replied.

"When the British show up, you won't be as happy."

"It'll be too late, because tomorrow…" He perked up, saying a little louder than necessary: "… tomorrow, we're leaving to meet George Washington!"

A wave of glasses was raised to his words, everywhere in the room. John, Hercules and Lafayette shouted with joy and even Burr couldn't resist raising an imaginary glass with a little smile. He had a deep admiration for the general and had to admit that he was also very excited to enroll in the revolution.

Their orders arrived, and of course, John was the first one to jump on his beer and raise a glass to freedom. He drank half in one minute before Hercules's paternal instinct took over and threatened to take the drink away if he didn't calm down.

After about half an hour, Alexander had inexplicably ended up in Lafayette's lap as the Frenchman spoke with Hercules about several projects. John had moved closer to rest his head on his shoulder and the youngest of the group was petting his beautiful locks, talking about random things to nobody in particular. Burr watched them with a tightness in his chest, calmly finishing his own drink. Seeing them, you'd think it was so easy to love. Two or four, what was the difference?

And to think it was kind of his fault if those weirdos knew each other. He still remembered the night a nineteen years old kid had appeared out of thin air in the street, blocking his path, to ask him with stars in his eyes if he was "Aaron Burr, sir?". He was strangely tiny, even though he was only one year younger than him, an emaciated face, still hairless, and a hungry look that never seemed to leave him, despite his proud and wild smile. He had practically started yelling in the street about wanting to fight, to rebel, to prove his worth to the world.

Burr had suggested a drink, and to shut up a little.

"Oh, are you feeling lonely, sir?"

Burr almost startled at Alexander's remark. He hadn't been careful enough. He breathed in and didn't say anything, pretending not to have heard anything. Alexander and John laughed, sharing a trusting glance.

If Burr had to guess, he'd say that night, the spark was lit the second his prudent advice had been interrupted by the revolutionary trio. He had tried ignoring them, as he always did when he accidentally ended up in the same bar as the. Alexander, however, had turned like the arrow of a compass towards this progressive rich boy singing about how much he hated the British, standing on a table and cheered on by his two friends, a French anarchist marquis and a tailor's apprentice.

Lafayette and Hercules were already together at the time, or they had gotten together shortly after, Burr wasn't sure, he had better things to do than follow the three young men's relationships who were more of an occasional hassle to him than anything else. What he remembered, though, was that when he saw Alexander again, a couple weeks later, he was clearly dating John and already had his eyes on Lafayette, and a little on Hercules too.

"Mister Burr, sir," Alexander called him back to the present with a wink. "You know my offer still stands," he sing-sang happily, making John laugh and Lafayette groan.

"Yes, yes, I know," Burr sighed, not saying more.

Alexander had this nasty habit of confessing every single crumb of feelings he might feel . Why did he always say what he believed, Burr would never understand, sincerity might simply be in fashion right now, but the truth was Alexander didn't hide his desire for him in the slightest. He would lie if he said he never thought of saying yes. In private, maybe. But no, something he wasn't sure he understood was holding him back. Maybe he simply preferred women.

At least, Alexander never took offense to his rejections. He was probably used to it, and with three other partners, he had way enough love to go around. His heartache came back and Burr cleared his throat.

"Oh, a cold?" Hercules worried.

"No, no, just the alcohol. I'm stopping here anyway."

John snickered. "Fag."

"Says the pot to the kettle, Laurens, don't think I didn't notice where your hand is right now."

"I was talking about your ability to drink, you have no sense of humor," John said, shrugging.

"Are you legally obligated to remain this serious all the time?" Alexander mocked.

"You need at least one safeguard if you don't want to get killed."

"Are we not safe?"

"You are not dead, so I take it I'm doing my job right."

"Well, keep doing it," Alexander smiled, only half-joking. "It will be very useful on the battlefield."

"I do intend to," Burr said, sitting up, a little flattered.

"Oh, I think our favorite party pooper likes us," Hercules sang jokingly.

"Despite all logic," he admitted with a sigh, "your friendship is very dear to me."

The four others stared at him for a few moments, not sure how to respond. Even if he often joined them in their nightly shenanigans, Burr's sincere confessions were as rare as progressive men in the South. Alcohol was visibly starting to affect him. Alexander shared a glance with his partners, then raised his glass with a kind smile.

"To our dear safeguard, Mister Aaron Burr, and his boring underrated prudence."

The others raised their glasses as well, and even Lafayette smiled a little as they cheered : "To Aaron Burr!"

Burr watched them without a word, but he also raised his glass and smiled as he brought it to his lips. They truly were a bunch a fools, but he would lie if he said he preferred other people's company. So he didn't say anything. His questions could wait, he'd see where the war would carry them.


End file.
